


When I Saw You

by WulfenOne



Series: The Wanderer And The Reporter [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Deathclaws, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slow Burn, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2019-10-14 02:01:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WulfenOne/pseuds/WulfenOne
Summary: Nate Dawson is a man alone, spat out into a world he doesn't understand and has no idea about, his capacity for companionship sorely tested by his past trauma. Piper Wright is a plucky investigative journalist with an eye for sob stories, priceless scoops... and mystery men in vault-suits. Now the two of them are on the hunt for answers, both big and small, and their best chance to get them is with each other - whether they like it or not.





	1. A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To Diamond City

  “Easy there, honey. You look like you took quite a spill.”

   Nate blinked, feeling the world swim blurrily back into place around him. The last thing he remembered was an old Corvega taking one stray bullet too many in a gunfight with some raiders and exploding in a plume of radioactive smoke and scrap, the shockwave from the decrepit car’s detonation picking him up like a loose leaf and slamming him against a nearby wall, at which point he’d clearly blacked out. He didn’t recognise the voice he’d heard as he regained consciousness, but through his disorientation he thought the woman looking down at him with concern looked oddly familiar. The soft lines of her jaw, the chin-length dark hair, the slight dusting of freckles across her cheeks, the shape of her eyes… it was almost like he was looking at Nora again.

   His Nora.

   How could that be?

   “Nora?” he mumbled through unresponsive lips. “I thought you died…” Shakily he raised a blood-streaked hand to try to cup the woman’s cheek in his palm, before she drew backwards in surprise, pushing his hand back towards his chest.

   “Hold your horses there, big guy,” she said. “I think you’re a little confused. Just take a deep breath and we can try introductions again once you know where you are.”

   Nate nodded weakly, feeling his temples throb painfully as he did so. The woman, whoever she was, sat by him cross-legged as he lay prone on the ground, trying to scrape his muddled thoughts together. After a few minutes he felt his equilibrium beginning to return and he gazed up at his saviour, and saw that Nora’s visage had faded away to reveal a dark-haired woman wearing an oddly out-of-place newsboy hat and red leather coat. In the band of her hat was an almost comical paper note which had the word “Press” written on it, making Nate wonder what kind of market the wasteland actually had for newspapers.

   “Hey,” the woman said as he sat up, grunting as the sore spots in his side protested at the sudden movement. “You feeling a little better now?”

   “Not really,” Nate replied, rubbing his blood-encrusted scalp and grimacing as a twinge of pain sparked in his neck, “but I think I’ll live.” He struggled to his feet in order to make his way over towards his pack, which had been tossed a dozen metres away by the force of the explosion, but his legs failed him and he sank to one knee.

   The mystery woman raised an eyebrow, before she pushed herself up and walked over to where Nate’s pack had fallen, then picked it up and handed it back to him as he sat back on the ground, feeling his head slowly start putting itself in order. “You sure about that, Blue?”

   “Why are you calling me that?” Nate asked, a little confused.

   “You’re a Vault-dweller,” the woman said. She gestured towards him with one small gloved finger. “The blue jumpsuit, the Pip-Boy and the whole ‘fish out of water’ look are a real giveaway, you know.” A smile flickered across her face for a moment before she stuck out a hand. “Piper Wright, head writer and editor at _Publick Occurrences_ , the Commonwealth’s best newspaper. No story too big, no stone left unturned.”

   Still slightly bewildered, Nate shook her hand weakly. “Nate Dawson, retired marine. No car left unexploded.”

   Piper laughed. “I noticed that. Blow up cars often, do you?”

   “Just on days ending in Y,” Nate said, rubbing his eyes and trying to blink away the last blotches of colour from his vision. “If I’d known they’d be that easy to destroy I would have stayed in the vault.”

   “Why did you leave, then?” Piper asked, cocking an eyebrow.

   “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Nate said with a small shrug, before he drew a small can of purified water out of his pack and took a long sip from it.

   “Try me,” Piper retorted, before her expression softened a little. “Trust me, Blue, I’ve seen more than my fair share of crazy stuff out here.” She drew up the sleeve of her coat to show him what looked like surgical scars carved into her forearm. “See these? I got them while I was chasing a lead on a den of super mutants, and one of the big green assholes broke my arm. Doctor Sun in Diamond City pinned my wrist back together then put my arm in a cast for a month.” She rolled her sleeve back down again, and laced her fingers together in her lap. “So come on – I showed you my scars, now you have to tell me your story.”

   Nate took another sip of water before he remembered his manners and offered another can to Piper, who simply shook her head and reached into her coat pocket to retrieve a bottle of Nuka-Cola instead. “Well, okay,” he said, “but I don’t think you’ll want to print this.”

   “I think I can decide what my own paper does and doesn’t print, Mr Judgey,” Piper said, swigging a mouthful of cola from her bottle. “So tell me, what gives?”

   “The vault I was in,” Nate began, “was a cryogenics facility. The bombs dropped and we all ran to the vault to get away. They froze us about five minutes after we got inside it. I only thawed out a little while ago.”

   “Wait,” Piper said, confusion flashing across her face, “are you saying you were alive when the bombs dropped? Before the war?”

   “I told you that you wouldn’t believe me,” Nate replied.

   “I didn’t say that,” Piper retorted. “Like I said, it’s not as weird as you might think. There are stranger things than walking pre-war relics in this world. So what happened next?”

   “I saw my wife die,” Nate said, wiping at the corner of his eye with a callused thumb. “Some people came into the vault and took my son Shaun. One of them… he killed Nora for trying to stop him, then they put me back into deep freeze. They called me ‘the backup’.” He finished the last of the water from the can in his hand and then put the empty container back into his pack. If he had learned anything in his time in the Commonwealth so far, it was not to let anything go to waste unless absolutely necessary. “So now I’m out here, looking for my boy. It’s been months and I still have no real leads.” He felt tears beginning to bead at the corners of his eyes again at the mention of Shaun, and once more he rubbed them away quickly. “I did run into some survivors up in Concord I thought might be able to help me, but the guy in charge wanted me to lead some kind of civilian militia so I told them all to shove it. I’m not a leader, I’m just a grunt.”

   “A… what?”

   Nate sighed in frustration. Pre-war jargon was obviously not on the curriculum of whatever kind of educational system still existed these days. “A soldier. One of the guys that governments put out there to catch bullets with their face. Lowest of the low.” He paused. “I know it sounds stupid, okay? It’s just what we called each other.”

   “Hey, I’m not going to criticise,” Piper said, holding her hands up. “You pre-war folks probably had your reasons for stuff like that. Maybe you can tell me more about the old world when we get where we’re going.”

   “’Where _we’re_ going’? Who’s we?” Nate asked, curiously.

   Piper rolled her eyes. “Come on, Blue, you’re the scoop of the century! You think I’m just going to let you wander off into the sunset and miss out on what you do next?” She paused. “Besides, you really got the stuffing knocked out of you and I want to make sure you’re okay, so I’m going to take you to Diamond City, and Doctor Sun can treat you if you need it – I can pay the bill if you don’t have any caps on you.”

   “You’d do that for someone you only just met?”

   “What can I say? I’m a giver,” Piper chuckled, playfully bumping his shoulder with her fist. “Let’s go get you fixed up, shall we?”

* * *

     The trek through the ruined streets was a relatively short one, only interrupted a couple of times by packs of hungry wild dogs or irritating oversized insects, but it still made Nate’s bones ache. Maybe he needed this rest more than he knew. When they reached their destination, he had to do a double-take as he realised Diamond City was actually just the old Fenway Park stadium, its huge, heavy entranceway gate resolutely slammed closed. It almost felt like he had come home.

   Almost.

   Piper strode up to the speaker at the side of the gate and said “Hey Danny? Danny, can you let me in, please? It’s Piper.”

   A reedy, scrawny-sounding voice crackled through on the other end of the intercom. “Sorry, Miss Piper, I can’t do that. Mayor McDonough doesn’t want you back in here. He –”

   Piper’s eyes blazed with anger suddenly. “Damn it, Danny, you can’t do this to me! I live here, remember?”

   “I know, Miss Piper, but the mayor, he’s really mad about that story you wrote –”

   “Come on, Danny! I’m standing right out in the open here, for crying out loud!” Piper cried. “I bet the mayor would love it if I died out here, wouldn’t he? No more scary reporter hanging around anymore, right?” She clicked the off-button on the intercom button for a moment, her cheeks going beet-red with anger before she looked at Nate and tapped her chin thoughtfully. Then she snapped her fingers, her eyes lighting up. “Hold on, Blue, I got an idea. Play along, okay?” She pushed the intercom button again and said “Danny, I swear if you don’t let me in this instant, I’m gonna – oh, hey, you. What’s that? You’re a trader just up from Quincy?” She quickly beckoned him over and gestured for him to speak into the intercom, so he stepped up to it uncertainly.

   “Yes, yes I am,” he said, trying to conceal any nervousness in his voice. “I have enough supplies for the whole month, but if you don’t let me in they’re all gonna go to waste.” Off to one side Piper gave him a wide-eyed smile and a double thumbs-up for carrying on her little charade, and then he continued “Of course if you don’t want them I’m sure I could sell them in Goodneighbor…”

   At that moment the gears of the massive gate began groaning as they heaved the huge metal structure upwards, signalling that Piper’s ridiculously-transparent con had miraculously paid off. Behind the gate they found a rotund, middle-aged man in a patched tweed suit and battered hat standing with his hands clenched into fists, yelling at who Nate supposed had to be Danny, a gangly-looking guy in what seemed to be an umpire’s uniform.

   _Baseball body armour? Sure, why not?_ Nate thought. He’d seen far more eccentric forms of personal protection since he had been thawed out, so it didn’t really register anymore.

   The older man sent the gangly youth scurrying back to the ticket booth with a couple of harsh words before he rounded on Piper, jabbing his pudgy finger in her face. “You! I thought I told you to stay away from Diamond City, you devious, rabble-rousing –”

   “Ah, shove it up your ass, McDonough, I’m not in the mood,” Piper snapped, raising her middle finger at him as she crooked her arm through Nate’s elbow and dragged him past the mayor, who was left to silently fume as the object of his ire left him alone.

   Nate hoped he wouldn’t take out too much of his anger on that poor guy in the ticket booth.

   When the two of them entered the stadium proper, Nate couldn’t believe what he saw. His favourite ballpark was unrecognisable. Neon signs were everywhere and what had once been the pitch was covered in ramshackle huts made largely of wood and corrugated iron, with some fancier, more ornate constructions occupying the higher levels of the seating. He guessed that the difference in the quality of the dwellings meant there was some kind of clear class divide here.

   _The more things change..._

   Before he could dwell on that thought in any more depth, though, he noticed Piper breaking away from him and heading towards a young girl, perhaps in her early teens, who was standing on an upturned box and yelling something about… synths? He’d heard vague whispers of those in the time he had spent wandering the wasteland, but nothing really conclusive. He made a mental note to ask Piper about it later, since she seemed to have her finger firmly on the pulse of this brave new world. For now, though, he simply followed her into the bustling marketplace in what was left of yet another of his childhood landmarks.

   “Hey, kiddo,” Piper said to the little girl. “How are the paper sales going?”

   “Same as always,” the girl said with a shrug. “Big rush in the morning and then nothing in the afternoon.”

   Piper sighed, before she gestured to Nate. “Nat, this is Nate. Nate, Nat.”

   “A Vault-dweller?” Nat said, deigning not to speak to Nate and instead focusing completely on Piper. “Doesn’t look like much to me. Why are you bringing him here?”

   “Because he’s not just any Vault-dweller,” Piper said, jerking her thumb back at him. “This guy is from before the war!”

   Nat burst out laughing. “Good joke, sis,” she said after she had composed herself. “Why are you _really_ bringing him here?”

   “Because I’m telling the truth,” Nate said, extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Nat.”

   “Cram it, mister,” Nat snorted, contemptuously slapping his hand away. “You might have fooled my sister, but you don’t fool me. If you hurt her I’ll kill you.” She hopped off the box and stalked off inside the shack behind her, leaving a stack of unsold papers lying on the ground and Nate feeling very confused.

   “Sorry about that,” Piper said sheepishly. “Nat doesn’t trust new people easily. She’ll come around if you wait long enough, I promise.” She smoothed out her coat and then gestured behind Nate to a man in a dirty white lab coat. “That’s Doctor Sun. Let’s get you checked out, and then we can go grab a drink, okay?” 

* * *

     A few swabs and bandages later, Nate followed Piper into what she called the Dugout Inn. She led him towards the bar, laying a handful of caps on its sticky surface. “Two vodka-and-Nuka-Colas, please, Vadim,” she said to the grinning barkeep. “Make it quick, we’ve had a rough day.”

   “Of course, Miss Piper!” Vadim replied, his smile never leaving his face. “I will have drink ready in a flash!” His thick Russian accent took Nate by surprise, prompting him to wonder if people could still travel here from overseas – there was no way an accent like that could have been passed down for two hundred years without becoming diluted to the point of being almost unrecognisable, after all. Of course, if people really could still travel here, that begged the further question of why they would actually _want_ to, unless the rest of the world was somehow even worse.

   His head hurt at that notion, so he shuffled it to the back of his mind deliberately and tried not to dwell on it. Instead, he simply leaned on the bar and took in his surroundings. As he looked around at the mould crusting in the corners of the ceiling, the chipped paintwork, and the random assortment of scruffy, threadbare furniture, one thought supplanted everything else.

   “What,” he began, not realising he was speaking out loud, “a fucking dump.”

   “Hey!” Piper retorted, smacking his arm with the back of her hand and breaking his reverie. “This is my favourite bar, Blue. At least get to know it better before you call it a dump, okay?” She winked as she handed him his half of her order. “I’m kidding, Blue. I _know_ it’s a dump.” She gestured to the mass of people in the wider area of the bar. “ _They_ know it’s a dump. Hell, even _Vadim_ knows it’s a dump… but it’s _our_ dump, you know? Diamond City’s finest moonshine on tap and as much Nuka-Cola as you can drink. What more could a girl ask for?” She raised her glass. “Join me in a toast to Diamond City’s favourite craphole?”

   Nate couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Sure,” he said, clinking his glass against hers. “To Diamond City’s favourite craphole. Long may it stand.”

   “That’s the spirit, Blue,” Piper said. “We’ll make a Diamond City boy out of you yet.”

   “I don’t know about that,” Nate replied. “I don’t want to be tied down anywhere for too long. My son is out there, and I have to find him.”

   “Of course,” Piper said, suddenly seeming a little downcast before her eyes lit up with inspiration. “You know, if you’re looking for any help with that, my friend Nick is a detective. He could probably hook us up with some leads. We could use all the help we can get.”

   “Again with the ‘we’?” Nate said, slugging back a mouthful of his drink. “I’m not a charity case, Piper.”

   “Didn’t say you were, Blue. I just –”

   “You just think I’m the story of the century,” Nate snapped. “I’m not your big scoop either.” Swallowing another mouthful he moved the empty glass away and pushed himself upright off the bar. “I’m going to find somewhere to sleep.”

   “Okay,” Piper said, her expression turning downcast again. “I have a sofa spare if you need it –”

   “Somewhere that isn’t near you,” Nate said with a scowl. “Thanks for the drink.” He turned towards Vadim. “Hey… Vadim, is it? You got any rooms for rent?”

   “One room for rent, yes,” Vadim said, pointing towards a man sat on a chair in front of a doorway off the side of the bar. “See Yefim. He will give you key. No room service, though!” As soon as he had the key, Nate took to his room, leaving Piper alone in the middle of the bar.

* * *

   Nate stared at the ceiling in the pitch-black of his room, which was lit only by the display on his Pip-Boy. Even though it was three in the morning and he was exhausted from the day’s events, Nate couldn’t get his mind to shut down. He had tried counting sheep, he had tried listing names of weapons in alphabetical order, and he had tried to slow his breathing… in fact, he had tried anything that he had heard would induce sleep, and nothing had worked, and the worst thing was he knew exactly why. The guilt at the way he had treated Piper, who had been nothing but kind to him even though she’d gained nothing, was gnawing at his conscience. He resolved to make it up to her… somehow.

   He owed her that much, at least. He just hoped she would forgive him.


	2. Apologies And Other Miracles

 Nate sat in his room in the Dugout, pulling on the boots of his Vault suit and fastening the buckles of his leather armour. He had finally fallen asleep a few hours beforehand, but Vadim had woken him abruptly by hammering on the door and demanding he get up and get out. Checking out of motels was definitely not what it used to be, he decided. The time he and Nora had spent going on a road trip before Shaun had arrived had been one long succession of single-night stays in backwater towns and big cities alike, but not one proprietor had banged relentlessly on the door with what had sounded like the butt of a shotgun and told them to hit the bricks as soon as the sun had come up.

   Another first for his growing collection, he supposed.

   He rubbed at his eyes, finished assembling his various pieces of gear, tucked his pistol into his waistband and walked out into the stale atmosphere of the bar itself. It stank of spilled beer and overturned ashtrays – and in one corner, the sticky, acidic tang of dried vomit – but Vadim seemed as jovial as ever. “Hope you enjoyed your stay, friend!” he exclaimed as he cleaned out a cracked glass, before he inclined his head towards the bottles on the shelves behind him. “Sure I cannot get you anything for road?”

   Nate shook his head. “No, I’m… I’m good, thanks.” He jerked a thumb at the lumpen puddle in the corner. “You should probably clean that up or someone might complain.”

   He expected Vadim to throw him out for that, but instead the Russian man let out a loud guffaw. “Trust me, stranger, people have seen worse than that in here. Now they think it part of this place’s charm!” He picked up his glass again and started running the cloth around the rim. “I think you should know,” he said in a slightly more serious tone, “that Miss Piper was not happy when you leave her last night. I think she deserves an apology, don’t you?”

   “Yeah,” Nate said, rubbing his face with his hands. “God, I was such an asshole to her.”

   “Yes, you were asshole,” Vadim said bluntly, his smile abruptly falling away from his face for a moment. “Miss Piper is good person and she did not deserve that. I give you a room because you pay for it, but I am giving you advice for free: go to her today and say you are sorry, and she will most likely forgive you, no questions asked.” He chuckled. “Her little sister may not, but that is risk you will have to take, I think.”

   “That’s not going to be fun,” Nate said ruefully. “Did you know that that kid threatened to kill me the first time we met?”

   “It sounds like you are facing uphill battle, friend,” Vadim told him. “I will keep fingers crossed for you.”

   “I appreciate the thought,” Nate said, “but I don’t think good thoughts on their own are going to help me fix this.”

   “See Myrna at Diamond City Surplus if you want,” Vadim suggested. “She is… odd, but she may perhaps have something you can use as peace offering.”

   “Thanks, Vadim. I’ll bear that in mind,” Nate said, before he turned and left the bar, stepping out into the morning air and feeling the sunlight draping itself gently across his cheeks. For once it didn’t seem like an unpleasant day, which was always a welcome change – too many days began with radioactive animals trying to make him their breakfast for him not to appreciate a simple sunny morning with no problems on the horizon.

   No physical problems, anyway… 

* * *

    “Why don’t I serve you? Because I don’t know you!” Myrna snapped at him angrily after he had greeted her for the first time. “You might be a synth! I don’t serve synths!”

   Nate took a step back, stunned by Myrna’s outburst. Vadim clearly had a talent for understatement when he had said she was simply “odd”. He held his hands up to try to make it clear he was not a threat. “I’m not a synth,” he said in a calm, even tone. “Trust me, I’m as human as the day I was born.”

   Myrna narrowed her eyes. She didn’t seem completely convinced, but she visibly relaxed in any case. “Okay,” she said, “but don’t you try anything. I know what synths do when you’re not looking.”

   “Don’t worry,” Nate told her. “I’m just here to shop.” He paused, looking at the piles of bullets, food items and assorted junk on the shelves behind her. “What kind of stuff do you have?”

   Shrugging, Myrna waved a hand at the products on display. “We sell just about anything,” she said before she jabbed a finger at him for emphasis, “but none of it is scrap, okay? Scrap is for synths. They eat it. I know they eat it.”

   “Well, I don’t,” Nate replied, trying to steer the conversation away from her peculiar obsession for the sake of his own sanity. “I just want something practical, for a… friend.” He imagined that women of this time wouldn’t settle for the kind of frivolous gift-based apologies he would give Nora when he screwed up, so he decided he would probably be better off getting Piper something she could get some decent use out of. After all, he thought, based on his limited time with her she really seemed like the kind of girl who would have hated flowers or chocolates even before the war. He also decided it should be of at least equal value to the amount of caps she had used to buy him treatment and drinks the night before, with a little on top as a way of paying her back with interest.

   Suddenly concerned about coming up short when it came time to settle the bill, he rummaged through his pack and the pockets of his leather armour for something to barter with and found several stray magazines of ammunition for guns he didn’t own, or just plain didn’t like to use, as well as a small assortment of random items including some slightly bent gears, a broken toaster and a gold pocket watch which had long since stopped working. It wasn’t much, but someone, somewhere, would surely find a use for them.

   He stopped worrying about that when his eye fell on something he thought would be perfect. He pointed at it and asked “What’s this worth?”

* * *

    Nate held his gift clumsily behind his back as he approached the front door of the  _Publick Occurrences_  building, only to see Nat Wright glaring a hole in him as he did so. When she realised he was coming towards her she hopped off her box and blocked his path to the front door, her small fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. “You hurt Piper!” she snarled, her eyes lit with the same kind of fire he had seen in the eyes of her big sister. “I knew you would. You’re just like all the others!”

   “I know I hurt her,” Nate said in a low tone, “and I want to make it up to her.”

   “Liar!” Nat cried. “You liar!” She lashed out with both fists, hitting him in the stomach as hard as she could. Even though the impact was cushioned by his armour and the padded, insulated nature of his Vault-suit, Nate could feel the girl’s anger and frustration as she bashed her hands against his body. Her visible fury made him wonder just how many times she had had to repeat this cycle of disappointment.

   “Not interrupting anything, am I?”

   Nate looked up to see Piper framed by her open front door, her uncombed hair and sour expression indicating that she had only recently woken up.

   “Piper, I –”

   “Save it, Nate,” she snapped, deliberately using his given name. “You made me look like a real prize idiot last night. Why should I listen to you now?” It took her a moment to notice he still had his hands resolutely held behind his back. “Wait,” she said, pointing at him. “Wait just a moment. Did you bring me a present to apologise? You did, didn’t you?” She snorted. “You might have been able to buy a girl’s forgiveness back before the war, but you can’t buy mine, mister.” She stepped out of the doorway, sticking her finger in his face. “I’m not that easy, okay?”

   “I wasn’t trying to buy your forgiveness, Piper,” Nate said. “I was trying to square things, plus a little interest, so I got you this.” Awkwardly he shifted the bag containing his gift around and held it out to her. “Here.”

   Piper drew her lips into a thin line and raised an eyebrow. She hesitated for a moment before she took the bag out of his hands, almost dropping the entire package as she took its unexpected weight in her hands, and then drew out its contents.

   It was a typewriter, which was a little rough around the edges but in otherwise good shape. Piper stared at it, very obviously confused as to what she was holding. “Why’d you get me this?” she asked, incredulous.

   “You’re a writer, aren’t you?” Nate said. “I thought you might like something to write with.” He shrugged. “So can we call it even?”

   “Not even close,” Piper said flatly, “but we can call it a start. You’re not off my shit-list just yet, buddy. If you want me to gloss over what you did, you have to earn it.” She took a few steps back into her house and deposited the typewriter on the table just to the side of the entrance. “Come and find me again in a couple of days, and we can work on this some more, okay?”

   When she had closed her door, Nat gave Nate another searing glare. “You got off lucky this time, mister,” she hissed. “You’re lucky she didn’t kick your ass.”

   “Seems that way,” Nate said, scratching at the back of his neck before turning around and walking towards the open gates of the city, having decided that a visit to Goodneighbor might take his mind off things. There were always distractions there, after all, whether they were of the physical or chemical variety. Perhaps there might even be a little mercenary work available; the Limey Mr Handy behind the bar of the Third Rail was good for facilitating that kind of thing on behalf of the town’s mayor. Whatever the case, there would almost certainly be something there to help take his mind off his stupid decisions. “See you around, kid.”

* * *

Piper closed her front door and then leaned back against it, banging the back of her head against its metal surface three times in frustration. She knew she had every right to be annoyed at the way that Nate had treated her, but she also knew that she would almost certainly never see him again now. It was not the first time she had let a story slip through her fingers because she had done the wrong thing, but that man had to have been the biggest scoop of her entire career and now he had very probably walked out of her life forever. She looked down at the typewriter he had bought her, its flaking paint already beginning to crust off onto the table it was resting on.

“I’ll say this for him,” she said, “he does pick good gifts.” She wondered if he had been so insightful with his wife.

Abruptly she frowned. No. This was what he wanted, she was sure of it. Picking a nice gift. Saying he was sorry. Getting back into her good graces just by spending a few caps.

“No,” she said. “Sorry, Nate, you’re not getting off that easily.” She crossed the room, climbed her stairs and threw on a random set of clean clothes underneath her trenchcoat and hat before picking the typewriter up and walking over to Diamond City Surplus. She held it out to Myrna, who looked at it in surprise, clearly recognising it as the same typewriter she had just sold. “How much for this?” Piper demanded.

“Twenty caps,” Myrna said flatly. “No more.”

“I’ll take it,” Piper replied, handing over the typewriter. 

   Returning to her house she grasped Nat by the shoulder. “Sorry for doubting you, kiddo.”

“It’s okay,” Nat told her with a small smile. “I love you.”

Piper returned her sister’s smile with a muted one of her own. “Love you too.” She exhaled briefly. “I’m gonna be heading out of the city again now. I have a lead on the Institute I’ve been meaning to follow up on for a couple of days now, so you’ll have to look after yourself until I get back, all right? There’s mac and cheese in the cupboard if you get hungry, or you can go eat at Power Noodles if you want. Here, you can treat yourself.” She handed over the bag of caps Myrna had given her. “Just make sure to tell Takahashi I sent you. He’ll give you a discount.” Nat giggled at that. Piper always thought it was good to hear her laughing. “That’s the spirit,” she said. “I’ll see you when I get back, okay?”

“Where are you going first, Piper?” Nat asked her as she began walking towards the gates of the city.

“Same place I always go first,” Piper told her. “Goodneighbor’s a hell of a town.”


	3. Redhead Redemption

“Good to see you again, squire!” the Mr Handy called Whitechapel Charlie said as Nate walked up to the bar in the Third Rail, Goodneighbor’s dingy and proudly-disreputable social hub. “What can I get you tonight?”

“You tell me, Charlie – you got any ‘exterminating’ you need doing?”

Charlie’s frontmost eye tilted quizzically a little on its mounting as he pondered the question. “Well, I don’t know if there’s any clean-up jobs going right now, sunshine,” he said, gesturing at Nate with a single pincer, “but I do know we’re having ourselves a little bare-knuckle party here later if you’re interested in a bit of a wager. Tommy Lonegan down at the Combat Zone is a mate of mine and he agreed to loan me one of his fighters for a couple of nights to drum up some business for both of us. ‘Cross-promotional deal’, he called it – get some of my own patrons to fight one of his best talents and let them know where to find more, that kind of thing. From what Tommy tells me she ain’t for the faint of heart when it comes to her fights. Lots of blood and teeth, if you get my meaning.”

“I always get your meaning, Charlie. You’re not exactly subtle,” Nate replied, rolling his eyes. “Get me a bottle of Gwinnett stout, will you, please?”

“Coming right up, squire,” Charlie said cheerfully. “Fight night starts in about half an hour, by the way. You might want to get yourself set up with a good ringside seat before it really gets going. Either that or you could just listen to Magnolia for a bit if you want. Your choice, of course.”

“Of course,” Nate said, picking up his bottle when it arrived in front of him. “Think I’ll hang out here. Maybe I could enter that fight later? I could use the caps.”

“Fair enough – you can go on first,” Charlie said, swirling a cloth around a fresh glass. “Better be warned, though… Cait ain’t gonna go easy on you just ‘cause you’re a vault-dweller. That poxy blue jumpsuit won’t protect you for long.”

“Good,” Nate replied. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, buddy. Cheers.” He took a long swig of his beer and sat back on his stool to enjoy Magnolia’s singing, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt to listen to a few songs before he got his brains beaten in for a handful of caps. After all, if this Cait woman really was as lethal as Charlie was making her out to be, he guessed he might well be getting the loser’s end of the purse anyway, so he might as well try to enjoy his evening while he could.

Half an hour later, the bar had had its furniture shifted to its outer edges, and against Charlie’s very vocal wishes sawdust had been poured across the floor in a wide circular pattern in the centre of the room, presumably in order to soak up as much blood as possible. With that amount of pre-fight preparation, Nate had to think that the clean-up operation after the evening’s entertainment was over and done with was not going to be pleasant or brief. And yet here he was, getting ready to enter into the evening’s festivities, flexing his muscles in order to loosen them up as much as possible. He was laying his weapons and armour down in a corner when he heard a commotion at the top of the bar’s stairs, a drunken hollering echoing through the air as a flame-haired woman swaggered down into the makeshift arena, holding her bandaged fists aloft as if she was a conquering hero come to collect tribute. Nate guessed that she had to be the Cait he was supposed to be fighting, and though she looked to be significantly smaller than he was, she was still apparently composed mostly of whipcord muscle, with scars streaking up and down the length of her bared, toned biceps and a nose that looked to have been broken and clumsily reset a number of times. She had clearly been through more than her fair share of wars, so even if he hadn’t been forewarned about her capabilities he would have been at least a little wary of facing her in a one-on-one fistfight.

Still, he supposed it was too late to be having second thoughts now – he had already signed the paperwork and put a few caps on himself to win, after all.

_Time to put up or shut up…_

He shook his limbs out in the last few moments before the flame-haired woman reached the sawdust circle and stood in front of him. She looked him up and down and snorted in contempt. “You the new meat? Don’t look like much,” she said derisively. “Fought bigger’n you before breakfast, love. Best back down before I _put_ you down.” Once again Nate was confronted by an inexplicably strong foreign accent which defied all logic, this time a broad Irish brogue, and once again he was forced to wonder what kind of world was so simultaneously blasted apart and fused together that it could allow for such bizarre situations.

He didn’t have long to ponder the point, though, because the woman’s taped-up right fist slammed into his jaw, almost completely dislocating it. He swore he felt two or three teeth jostling against each other in their sockets as the coppery taste of blood splashed against his tongue and stars filled his vision. He was barely able to catch his breath before her other hand planted itself firmly in his gut, doubling him over so she could follow it up with a strike from her knee and then finish with an uppercut which sent him toppling backwards to the ground. The woman guffawed with laughter as he lay flat on his back trying to work out how to get his legs working again, before she turned towards the bar and jerked a thumb at him as she said “You taking the fucking piss here, Charlie? This the best you got tonight?”

“Just a warm-up, sweetheart,” Charlie told her, not even bothering to look up from the glass he was cleaning. “Got some real competition for you later.”

“I should bloody well hope so,” Cait said, glancing back at Nate as he finally began to sit up, rubbing his eyes and trying to push himself to a kneeling position. “Oh, fuck me,” she sighed, exasperated. “Don’t you stupid bastards ever know when you’re beaten?”

“No,” Nate said defiantly as he rose unsteadily to his feet, wiping away the blood dripping from his nose with his knuckles before he balled his fists. “I can do this all day.”

Cait rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake,” she exclaimed, cracking her knuckles. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you…”

 

* * *

Piper made her way up to Ham at the entrance to the Third Rail, and as she did so he touched a gnarled hand to the brim of his hat. “Always nice to see you, Miss Wright,” he said. “Come for fight-night?”

Piper looked at him as if he had just told her he had eaten her pet cat. “Fight-night? What’s that?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, toots,” Ham replied with a shrug. “You want to see guys beating the crap out of each other and enjoy some of Charlie’s bathtub moonshine while you do it, you’ve come to the right place.” He fiddled with his cufflinks for a moment before he continued “I hear they got some vault-dweller fighting first tonight. Says he’s ex-military, but I ain’t convinced, ‘cause that gal Charlie brought here from the Combat Zone’s busy wiping the floor with his face. You ask me, guy’s a no-talent punk.”

_A vault-dweller? It couldn’t be him… could it?_

“What girl are you talking about, Ham? Give me a name here.”

“Charlie said her name was Cait,” Ham replied, casually picking his teeth with a fingertip. “I ain’t never seen her fight until today, but damn does she do good work. Wouldn’t want to be in the ring with her, I can tell you that.”

_Goddammit._

Piper had interacted with Cait once or twice on her occasional visits to the Combat Zone to chase up a lead, and had regretted it every single time. The woman had been high or drunk every time they had crossed paths, her eyes always bloodshot and clouded by alcohol or Psycho as she sat at the arena’s grimy bar, silently smoking and slugging back seemingly endless glasses of whiskey while she scanned the room for her next conquest, whether that be in terms of fighting or sex. Sometimes both. More than once Piper had found her mouth full of the coppery taste of Cait’s blood as the Irish brawler forced her tongue down her throat and then licked her cheek as if she was etching a fresh tally mark into Piper’s skin. “Good to see you again, darlin’,” Cait would always say as she sauntered off through the sweaty throng of raiders, wiping her battered face with the back of her hand and then blowing Piper a kiss through her cracked lips. “Don’t be a stranger now.”

Piper shuddered. Cait being friendly was bad enough, but from what she had seen of the redhead’s skill inside the cage, Cait being aggressive was even worse. Her suspicions were confirmed when she made her way down to the main body of the bar and saw Cait standing in the centre of a ring of sawdust, fists raised in triumph as she strode away from her defeated enemy –

_Nate?_

It really _was_ him, and he was barely moving. Piper’s first instinct was to run into the sawdust circle to check on him, but she hesitated, chiefly because she didn’t know how high Cait was and consequently whether or not she’d become her next target. Her mind was made up when Cait kicked Nate in the face to finally put him down and then stalked away towards the bar, demanding a bottle of whiskey to quench her post-match thirst. Behind her she heard Ham approaching to scrape Nate off the floor, so she held out her arm to stop him. “It’s okay, Ham,” she said, not taking her eyes off Nate. “I got this one.”

“If you say so, doll,” Ham replied, and she felt him step backwards a pace or two. She approached Nate gingerly, looking at him lying on his back, his eyes glazed and his face a mass of bruises.

She knelt down beside him and said “You know, Nate, we gotta stop meeting like this.”

“Piper?” Nate slurred, still not completely focused. “What’re you doing here?”

“I was coming to chase up a story,” she said, helping him into a sitting position. “Looks like I found one, huh?”

“Hey!” Charlie yelled. “Go chat your boyfriend up somewhere else, Piper – we ain’t got all night, you know!”

“Right,” Piper said, rolling her eyes at the misconception. “Sorry for caring, Charlie.” She grasped Nate’s hand and pulled him into a sitting position before she knelt down, draped one of his arms over her shoulder and heaved as hard as she could to try to get him up onto his feet. “Come on, big guy, we managed this once.” She pushed upwards as hard as she could, almost crumpling under his weight, but just as it seemed like they were about to fall in a heap together Nate found his footing and balanced himself, if only to move to the closest chair and sit down bonelessly. He still looked a little spaced out, so Piper allowed him time to come to his senses while the debris from his bout was cleared away and a fresh sprinkling of sawdust was applied to the floor to soak up the scattered puddles of blood. As the betting pool at the bar began taking wagers again, Piper turned back to Nate and said “So tell me, how does a big tough grunt like you get beaten by a girl half his size?”

“No idea,” Nate said, in a daze. “Think she might have been on something. She was crazy-strong.”

Piper laughed despite herself. “Trust me, Cait is _always_ on something,” she replied. “Everyone who gets in the ring with her knows that. They just try to make the best of it.” She paused. “Well, everyone but you, clearly.”

“Are you enjoying this?”

“Who, me?” Piper placed a hand on her chest, doing her best to look aggrieved. “How could you possibly think that? Why would I enjoy watching the jerk who made me look like a fool getting beaten up?”

Nate sighed. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Yeah, you did,” Piper retorted. “I don’t like being made a fool of by anyone except me and my own stupid decisions. Now,” and she pulled a notepad from inside her coat, “I have some questions to ask Charlie, so you sit tight here and maybe I’ll come talk to you in a little while, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Nate said wryly. “I’m not that drunk yet.”

Piper gave him an only half-joking dirty look. “I told you before, Nate – you’re still not completely off my shit list, buddy. Don’t push your luck.”

With that, she left him to his own devices and stepped up to the bar. “Hey, Charlie,” she said. “Anything new on the grapevine you can tell me about?”

“Just one juicy rumour, sweetheart,” Charlie replied. “I heard some noise about that silly tart Bobbi No-Nose trying to round up a bunch of mugs to help her pull a job raiding the Diamond City strong room, but I ain’t sure even she’s daft enough to risk something that big. You can look into it if you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you, love.”

“She wants to break into the Diamond City strong room?” Piper said, tapping her lip with her pen. “Sounds pretty unbelievable… which these days means it’s probably worth investigating, don’t you think?”

Charlie paused, pondering the point. “S’pose you’re right,” he said. “Good luck, love – probably going to need it.”

“I need a Nuka-Cola, too, please,” Piper replied, before she glanced back to where Nate was sitting, just to check if he was looking better. Her eyes flared wide as she saw Cait moving towards the Vault-dweller, a predatory smile on her bloodied face as she prowled closer. Piper recognised that look all too well, and she knew that nothing good ever came after it. “On second thoughts, keep that bottle cold for me. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Charlie gave her a brief acknowledgement as she walked away, but she was too busy concentrating on Cait to hear it properly. She made it to Nate’s side just before Cait could pounce and put her body fully between the two of them, blocking the Irish brawler’s path as best she could. “Don’t touch him,” she said in as firm a tone as she could muster.

“Well, well, well,” Cait said, looking Piper up and down as if she was appraising a slab of brahmin meat. “Looks like Vaultie-boy here’s got himself a guardian angel. How sweet. Now get out of the way.” She stepped forwards but Piper refused to move, making sure to match Cait’s piercing glare with one of her own. Or try to match it, at least.

“I mean it, Cait,” she said, struggling to keep the fear in her guts from filtering through into her voice. “Turn around and walk away.”

“Or what?” Cait asked. “You gonna fight me?” The taller Irish woman stepped forward, fists clenched tightly and a contemptuous smirk twisting across her crimson-streaked features. “You know I can snap you in half without even breaking a sweat, right?” she said coldly, before she grabbed Piper by the lapels and dragged her closer, so they were almost nose-to-nose. “So move, little miss, or I’ll make you regret it.”

“No,” Piper stammered defiantly. “I’m not moving.”

“Is that so?” Cait said, before Piper yanked herself backwards and swung a punch directly at the side of Cait’s jaw. It impacted harder than she thought it would, making the other woman spit a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the floor before smiling widely, her teeth stained crimson.

“That was a pretty good hit, princess,” she said, wiping at the corner of her mouth with the back of one hand before licking her lips. “Seems like you got bigger balls than your boyfriend here. I can respect that. I’ll let you have this one.” She paused, patting Piper’s cheek. “Just make sure you come pay me back next time you’re at the Combat Zone, yeah? Buy me a drink or something. I’ll be waiting.” She kept eye contact with Piper as she walked backwards towards her ring, her almost lustful gaze sending a shudder through Piper’s innards.

When she had finally vanished back into the crowd, Piper felt her spine uncoiling itself. She didn’t know exactly what had just happened, but she had apparently managed to make a woman who had previously been beating the hell out of a man twice her size back off.

Maybe what her mother had told her about bullies had been true after all. “Hit them harder than they can hit you and they’ll back off every time,” she would say. Piper pondered that notion for a moment and then dismissed it utterly when she realised that Cait could hit her far harder than she ever could hit Cait, so why would that have made her go away?

She didn’t know, and right now she didn’t even want to know. All that mattered was that she was going to get out of the Third Rail with all her organs intact, which was always a good thing. Turning back to where Nate was sitting, she found him looking at her almost in awe. “What just happened?” he asked, clearly as confused as she was.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Piper replied, rubbing away the beads of sweat at her hairline. “How about we get out of here before she decides to come back?”

“Good idea,” Nate agreed, before he stood a little unsteadily and placed his hand against the wall until he caught his balance.

“You okay?”

“Been better,” Nate replied, “but I’ll live. Why’d you do that? Get in her face like that, I mean.”

“You needed help,” Piper said simply. “I help people for a living, so I helped you.”

“No,” Nate said, “I mean why did you do that for _me_? I’m a jerk, remember?”

“Yeah, you are,” Piper told him bluntly, “but even you don’t deserve to be eaten alive by Cait. It wouldn’t end well for you, trust me.” She tapped him firmly in the centre of his chest. “So that’s _two_ you owe me now, buddy. No more free favours, okay?”

“Fair enough,” Nate said, his bruised face breaking into a momentary smile. “Let me buy you dinner before I get out of Goodneighbor. Least I can do, right?”

“The _absolute_ least,” Piper told him, before a thought struck her, seemingly from out of nowhere. “Hold on, I have an idea. What do you know about Bobbi No-Nose?”

“The gangster? Not much – from what Charlie’s told me, the mayor thinks she’s a minor problem at best. Why?”

“She’s planning on robbing the Diamond City strongroom,” Piper said, “and I want to know when she's going to do it. I think I can find that out and I think you can help me. So what do you say? You up for some undercover investigation?”

“Sounds like it could be fun,” Nate said. “All right, Piper, I’m in. Let’s go make some headlines.”


	4. What's Dug Is Dug

“I don’t understand why we’re doing this. Why do I need new clothes again?”

“Because you’re way too noticeable in that vault-suit, you knucklehead. We’re supposed to be undercover – we don’t need you sticking out like a big blue thumb.”

“Okay, but I get to pick them. My mom used to buy me the most embarrassing clothes in the universe.”

“Uh huh. Good thing we’re not looking for fashion now, then, isn’t it?”

That had been the exchange which had preceded Nate and Piper’s shopping spree for their little covert operation. Daisy’s store hadn’t had the greatest selection of clothes in the world when they had gone to browse for some disguises, but that had been a blessing in its own way. Piper had described the look they needed to be going for as “wastelander chic”, and so the patched, tatty suits and dresses Daisy had warming her shelves had turned out to be exactly what they needed. As they left her store, their new clothes bundled into their respective packs, Piper snapped her fingers, a look of frustration passing across her face briefly.

“Dammit,” she said. “We’re gonna need somewhere to change, and it’s way too late to go all the way back to Diamond City now.”

“So why don’t we just try staying the night at Hotel Rexford?” Nate asked with a shrug. “I know they’re busy, but they might have two rooms free, right?”

“I’d rather not go there,” Piper replied, a disdainful edge to her voice. “The Rexford’s only good for two things: getting blackout drunk or stoned out of your gourd for a few hours. Staying the night there is like hanging a sign around your neck that says ‘please bite me’ to all the fleas in the entire world.”

“Well, it’s either that or we sleep on a mattress in an alleyway,” Nate began, “and I’d rather not get caught in a rad-storm if it’s all the same to you.”

Piper sighed. _“Fine,”_ she said pointedly. “You’re paying, though.”

“Fair enough,” Nate laughed. “Clair’s a buddy of mine, I’m sure she’ll give us a discount.”

* * *

Nate had been relieved to discover that Clair had actually had more than one room available for rent. The Rexford was infamous for filling entire suites with either rubble from the seemingly never-ending restoration work or sizeable stacks of Marowski’s lousy home-brewed chems, before Marowski moved them out of town to his dealers elsewhere in the Commonwealth. Nate knew that Mayor Hancock deliberately turned a blind eye to Marowski’s activities as long as it helped to keep the peace in his little town, but he had no doubt that that peace would be won in blood if Marowski stepped even a couple of paces out of line. As much as Marowski liked to pretend he was still a big deal, he was really just a minnow in comparison to Hancock. One slip and he’d end up with his guts lying in a steaming heap on the ground thanks to the mayor's favourite knife.

Nate was always very glad he didn’t have to live in this neighbourhood.

Once he had found his door and stepped inside it, he set his pack down on the single tatty chair in the corner, laying the new clothes he had been coerced into buying out on top of it in preparation for the morning and then laid down on the bed after draping his military-issue bedroll over the bare, stained mattress. There was no way he was going to allow direct skin-to-mattress contact, after all – Piper hadn’t been wrong when she had pointed out the Rexford’s little bug problem. He swore that some of them were large enough to use tools.

Eight hours later, he awoke from a surprisingly restful slumber and gave himself a quick rinse with a damp cloth soaked in some cold purified water – in the absence of an en suite bathroom he reasoned it was the only way he was going to get anywhere close to clean. The old, puckered scar on his right shoulder where he’d been hit by a Chinese bullet during the Battle of Anchorage protested a little at the chill, as it always did, but he ignored it. It was background noise to him now, as far as pain went.

Especially since he’d lost Nora and Shaun. He knew that in reality it had been two hundred years since they had been taken from him, but to him it still felt like yesterday. The wound was still fresh, not even vaguely scabbed over yet, and he didn’t know if it ever would. All he could really do was keep himself busy. Maybe this little adventure would do the trick, at least for a while. 

He towelled himself off and pulled on his new clothes. They were nothing spectacular, and certainly didn’t offer him as much protection as his Vault-suit and armour, but then again he supposed that going in guns a-blazing wasn’t what Piper had planned. The shirt, pants and boots were fine, but the hole-riddled denim jacket strained a little against his muscles. Since he would only be wearing it for a few hours at most, though, he supposed it was tolerable enough. 

While he was tying the laces of his new boots he heard a knock at the door. “Nate?” came Piper’s voice tentatively. “You decent in there?”

Nate stifled a laugh. “As I’ll ever be,” he said. Crossing the room he unlocked the door and opened it to find Piper standing there dressed in the same kind of worn, decrepit clothes she’d picked out for him, having dispensed with her usual outerwear and tied her hair back underneath what looked like an old-school stetson. He felt a surge of embarrassment when he found his gaze lingering a moment too long on the curve of her hips, which was much more obvious now that she was wearing just a waistcoat and tight, figure-hugging leather pants.

_Goddammit, Nate, get it together,_ he thought sourly. _You’re not fifteen anymore._

“Morning, slick,” Piper said with a smile, apparently having not noticed his unwittingly-wandering gaze. “Ready to go fact-hunting?” She held out a small container with what looked like greasepaint in it, which had a strong, unpleasant odour. “Here, I brought some camouflage for you. My own personal recipe – it really helps to sell your cover story if you smell like a wastelander as well as dressing like one. See?” She dipped her finger into the container and smeared a few smudges of it onto her own face, massaging the gunk into her skin until it looked like the kind of ingrained dirt most raiders seemed to sport like a badge of honour. “When I’m in this get-up you have to call me ‘Six-Gun Sally, scourge of the wasteland’.” She patted her hip and Nate saw that she had replaced her ten-millimetre pistol with an old-fashioned revolver and a bandolier of .38-calibre bullets which hung loosely around her waist. Touching her hand to the brim of her hat she drawled “Pleased to meet you, cowboy.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Sally,” Nate replied with a smile. He scooped a dollop of Piper’s noxious homemade goo from the container she had given him and dabbed it on his cheeks, following her lead until he could almost feel its stink soaking into his skin. “You can call me…” His voice trailed off. “You know what, just call me Nate. Nobody knows me anyway, so it won’t make a difference.”

“Come on, Nate, you have to play the game if you want to win it,” Piper chided him. “Let me think… how about… Cut-Throat Charlie?”

“Hmm,” Nate said thoughtfully. “I don’t have enough knives on me for that kind of name. Dead-Eye Dan, maybe?” He hefted his customised rifle and patted the barrel in mock-affection. “Say hello to Sarah-Jane, my one and only.”

Piper chuckled. “Okay, big guy, don’t get too carried away. Now let’s get going – we got a lot of ground to cover.”

“Sounds good to me,” Nate replied, slinging his gun’s strap over his shoulder. “Where are we headed?”

“Bunker Hill,” Piper said, before she noticed Nate’s perturbed expression and shrugged. “It’ll make sense when we get there, I promise. Sometimes you gotta go up to get down, you know?”

* * *

Piper always enjoyed the hike to Bunker Hill, especially in the summertime when there was a faint hint of birdsong in the air. Admittedly it was mostly crows fighting over carcasses, but there were some songbirds still around, and it made a big difference to hear just a little bit of life in the decaying sprawl of what had once been Boston. Sometimes it even made her think that the world might one day recover from what humanity had done to it – or at least would allow humans to remain around while it fixed itself.

She looked over at Nate, who was busy struggling with the straps of his pack and his rifle while he fiddled with his jacket, which was clearly bothering him in some fashion. “You okay there, cowboy?” she asked as he tugged at its edges with his free hand.

“No,” he replied flatly. “This thing is a little too small. I thought I could deal with it just for a day or so but I guess I was wrong.” He grimaced. “At least a few more holes won’t make it worth any less, I guess.”

Piper pursed her lips. “You could have told me before we left Goodneighbor, you know. I’d have helped you pick out a new one lickety-split.”

“‘Like I said, I thought I could hack it,” Nate said, as he rolled one of his shoulders with a sour expression on his face. A loud ripping sound filled the air as he did so, and he scowled. “Fuck!” he snapped, before dropping both his pack and his gun and then pulling the jacket off completely, revealing a large gap in one of its shoulder seams. He dropped it to the ground where it lay forlornly for a moment before he picked it up and stuffed in into his pack. “Maybe I can fix it up and sell it back to Daisy later,” he said as he straightened his back out. Under the jacket he was clad in just a short-sleeved Nuka-Girl t-shirt, and Piper’s attention was caught by something etched into his muscular left forearm in fading black ink.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at it before she could help herself.

Nate looked down at the symbol on his arm, turning it towards himself briefly. “This? It’s my old unit badge. My buddies and I all got them after we came back from Alaska, just to celebrate still being alive.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I lost touch with most of them when I was discharged. I hope they made it somewhere safe.”

For a moment Piper considered pressing him for more detail, but she decided against it after only a fraction of a second. Instead, she simply nodded and said “Me too,” to which Nate responded with a small smile. It was the first time she had seen him do anything like that, and she had to admit it was not entirely unwelcome.

“Thanks, Piper,” he said, sounding genuinely sincere. “That’s nice of you to say; I appreciate it.”

“Well, you’re very welcome,” Piper told him, putting a hand on his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “You know you can talk to me if you need to offload anything, right?”

Nate raised an eyebrow, looking understandably sceptical. She had brought that on herself, she supposed. “Do you promise not to put any of it in your paper?”

“Cross my heart,” Piper said, tracing an X across her chest. “It’ll be totally off the record.”

“That’s good to know,” Nate replied, before he glanced up the road they were travelling. “Say, do you know if there are any new raider outposts around here? I’ve been through here a few times before doing clean-up jobs for Charlie or Hancock, but things seemed to have gone pretty quiet, last I heard. Any idea why?”

“Sorry, Nate, I couldn’t tell you,” Piper said after a moment’s thought. “My sources usually stay away from raiders unless they want to become the news themselves.”

The sudden crunch of concrete under a heavy weight made Nate freeze in place. He put a finger to his lips and ushered Piper into the nearest cover. When they were safely concealed from view, Piper watched the street with her breath hitched in her throat. As she did so the reasons as to why this neighbourhood had gone quiet became abundantly clear.

An adult male deathclaw stalked into the middle of the road, casting rusted cars aside with its massive talons as it swung its head from side to side, presumably trying to catch the scent of something tasty. Then it fixed its burning yellow-eyed gaze in their direction, letting out a deafening roar. As it did so, Piper said one single word.

_“Run!”_


	5. Another Fine Mess

It always shocked Nate how fast deathclaws were.

The mighty horned lizards looked like the fastest pace they could manage was a brisk walk, but the way they were able to cover vast distances at incredible speed was uncanny. The deathclaw in the street up ahead had noticed his and Piper’s scent and was now barrelling rapidly towards them even as they fled, bellowing loudly in clear anticipation of an easy meal.

Whatever happened, Nate swore it would be anything but easy – and if the worst came to the worst, he hoped Piper’s homemade camouflage goop would at least give the monster indigestion. He hefted his rifle but didn’t even attempt to turn and fire it; the deathclaw would tear him in half within seconds if he tried. Instead, he pointed towards the nearest ruined building, a storefront with a relatively intact structure. “In there!” he cried, and ducked into the doorway after pushing Piper inside ahead of him. He could almost feel the deathclaw’s hot, meaty breath on the back of his neck as it charged, shoving one of its forelimbs through the open doorway and flailing it around wildly. When it didn’t manage to connect with anything, it withdrew its arm and began pacing back and forth, occasionally looking through the front window to try to catch a glimpse of its intended morning snack.

Behind the store’s counter, Nate crouched down, trying to keep as still as possible while Piper sat beside him looking equally as unwilling to move, her eyes wide with fear. “What are we going to do?” she whispered, her breath hitching in her throat as she did so.

Nate was about to reply when his eye was caught by what was on the shelves behind the counter: bottles of alcohol. 

_Lots_ of alcohol.

Yanking his ruined jacket from his pack, he pulled his combat knife from his belt and began slicing it into ragged strips of cloth before grabbing an armful of vodka and whiskey bottles, popping them open and soaking the strips of cloth before stuffing them back into the necks of each bottle and setting one alight with the lighter he kept in his pocket. He stood up, and to Piper’s obvious horror yelled “Hey, asshole! I’m in here!”, waving his arms vigorously as he did so to try to get the beast’s attention.

Sure enough, the deathclaw whipped its head around, its baleful glare fixing itself on him before it roared, a searing wave of blood-scented air washing over Nate while he hurled the bottle right into the monster’s face, the glass shattering as it impacted the tough scales and began spraying burning liquid in all directions. The deathclaw howled as the fire ate into its skin, pawing desperately at its face to try to make it stop. Nate threw another fiery missile at it, and then another and another until the monster visibly gave up and began slouching away almost sulkily, having clearly decided that two small morsels were not worth being burned on the nose.

When Piper was sure the giant lizard was gone, she took one look at Nate and said “Well that was… something. Thanks – pretty quick thinking for ‘just a grunt’.” She paused, suddenly curious. “Wait… I thought you said you didn’t have a knife? Where did that one come from?” She gestured at the knife Nate had dropped on the floor in order to throw his flaming bottles.

Nate picked the fallen weapon up and slid it back into its sheath casually. “Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t have _any_ knives,” he replied with a shrug. “I said I didn’t have _enough_ knives. Big difference.”

Piper stared at him in disbelief for a moment, before she threw her hands up in defeat. “Okay, you got me. Well played, Nate.”

“I have my moments,” Nate said, a lop-sided smile crossing his face for a moment. “Now let’s get moving before our scaly friend out there decides he still wants breakfast after all…”

 

* * *

Piper approached the gates of Bunker Hill, the midday sun reflecting off the increasingly forlorn-looking granite monument at its centre. She made a mental note to ask Nate more about the war it commemorated, since she had only had a few random holotapes and tattered books to work from when doing any research for her paper. It frustrated her no end that even if the world before the bombs had taught history more effectively, it sure had been reluctant to leave its secrets for future generations. Plus, precious few of the pre-war ghouls who had not gone totally feral were actually willing to talk about their experiences before the bombs. Maybe she just knew the ones with pasts worth forgetting.

“You know, I remember the parades that used to come by here every year to celebrate Independence Day,” Nate said, almost on cue. “The fourth of July really was the best holiday apart from Thanksgiving.” He glanced up at the monument, a regretful look crossing his face for a moment. “It’s kinda sad seeing the monument like this – my high school history teacher would have had a heart attack just looking at it.” Sighing, he ran a hand across his face almost in exasperation. “Sorry. Got a little carried away there for a sec.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” Piper said, draping her hand on his shoulder as reassuringly as she could. “Take all the time you want, honey.”

“Thanks, Piper,” Nate replied, reaching up with his own hand and laying his fingers on hers. He mustered a small smile, the slight scar at the edge of his upper lip creasing a little. She hadn’t noticed that scar before, but now she couldn’t help but notice it. “You keep being kind to me and I keep on not deserving it.”

Piper raised her eyebrows. “Hey, I’d do the same for anyone I could see was in pain,” she said simply. “You might be an asshole, but you still don’t deserve to feel that bad. It’s not your fault you ended up here –” Before she could finish, she saw exactly the man whom she had travelled here to find sitting over in the corner near Stockton’s makeshift bar. The only name she had ever heard him use was Mulligan, and he was a regular go-between for both Bobbi No-Nose and Marowski’s two-bit operations. In addition to petty theft, Bobbi had a sideline in gun-running (which mostly consisted of crude, cobbled-together pipe weapons and makeshift explosive devices – in other words, basic sidearms which more organised groups like the Gunners or the Brotherhood of Steel would turn their noses up at, but which would suit both ordinary farmhands and raiders down to the ground) while Marowski’s cheap bathtub-brewed chems were a staple of both the bored gentry in Diamond City and also the downtrodden commoners in Goodneighbor. Even the settlement she had grown up in had not escaped unscathed – her first boyfriend Charlie had been very fond of over-indulging on cheap Jet far too often. He had tried to get her to take a hit of it as well at a party one time, but she had backed off as soon as he offered her the inhaler, and that had been the end of that. It had been a shame, since she had thought she could at least overlook his vices or wean him off them eventually, but she didn’t doubt that her dad had breathed a sigh of relief when she had cut the kid loose. Her mom… well, she couldn’t really guess what her mom would have thought, considering she had never met her. She didn’t know where she was or even if she was still alive, but she supposed that she was probably better off without her, considering her dad had never really answered Piper’s questions about her unless it had been to tell Piper to stop asking questions about her. The pain on his face whenever the subject of his former wife came up suggested their separation had not been an amicable or pleasant one.

Piper shook her head as if to try to make the unwanted memory fall out of her ear, focusing her attention on Mulligan once again as he swapped idle chatter with some of the merchants, passing them packages wrapped in what looked like old newspapers. She guessed those packages weren’t exactly full of candy bars and fruit, but she couldn’t be certain until after she had got her hands on one in order to examine it, which would require a little… creative thinking.

Turning to Nate she said “Better get into character, ‘Dan’.” She gestured to Mulligan as subtly as she could. “That guy’s our mark – he’s our ticket into Bobbi No-Nose’s good books. When we get back to Goodneighbor we can take the package back to Bobbi and say we caught him trying to steal it.”

“Okay,” Nate said, scratching his chin with one hand thoughtfully, “so how are we going to get one of those packages? I don’t think he’ll just hand one over.”

“I do have a plan, you know,” Piper retorted. “We go over there, then I start acting like I want to buy something from him. Then you pick a fight with him, he gets distracted enough to give me enough time to swipe some of his merchandise, and then we high-tail it out of here before he notices anything’s missing.”

“You really think that’ll work?” Nate asked, a sceptical tone thick in his voice. “And why do I have to fight him, exactly?”

“You look like you’d make good muscle,” Piper said with a chuckle. “And besides that, I don’t think I’m nearly as intimidating as you.”

“I’d feel better about that statement if I hadn’t gotten my ass beat by that girl back in Goodneighbor,” Nate said, rubbing at his jaw again. It was obviously still bothering him, but not enough that he was willing to complain about it. Piper decided not to press the issue. 

“You’ll do fine, big guy,” she said. “This man probably doesn’t sample his own product every day like Cait does.”

“What’s stopping her from just killing us?”

“Bobbi’s a lot of things, but a random killer ain’t one of them,” Piper said with a shrug. “Now play along and this will go smoother than a baby’s ass.” She took him by the hand and led him over to where Mulligan was sitting, sidling up to the seated man and prodding him in the shoulder persistently until he swivelled around to look at her. “Hey,” she said, deliberately putting a drunken slur in her voice. “Hey, you. I need to talk to you.”

Mulligan sighed wearily, as if he was far too used to inebriated people bothering him. “Do I know you, lady?” he said, before turning back to the bar, grabbing his beer bottle and swigging from it, looking distinctly annoyed.

“Don’t think so,” Piper purred, “but I know you, man. I know you got the goods if you wanna party, ya dig?”

That got his attention. He turned in his seat, his face a mask of barely-contained fury. “Look, lady,” he hissed, “I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but you got the wrong guy, you hear me? I ain’t who you think I am. Now beat it.”

“Whatcha gonna do, hit a girl?” Piper said, feeling that it was past time for Nate to get involved. “My boyfriend can hit you harder, I bet.” She nudged Nate’s ribs with her elbow. “Ain’t that right, honey?”

Taking the hint, Nate put himself between her and Mulligan, jabbing his finger into the other man’s face angrily. “Nobody talks to my girl that way, man,” he said, before balling his fists and raising them in front of his face. “You wanna go with someone, let’s go.” Piper was gratified to hear that he had tried to put the same kind of sloppy, booze-tainted tone into his voice as she had. She thought he needed a little more practice, but it was a decent first attempt at least. “Right now, you and me.”

Mulligan scowled. This was _definitely_ not the first time he had had to deal with uppity customers. “Stay out of this, buddy,” he snarled, getting up out of his seat and going nose-to-nose with Nate, his eyes ablaze. “I ain’t gonna ask again.”

Nate held his hands up and took a step backwards, making Mulligan visibly relax a little – and then cracked him across the jaw with a hard right hook, sending him sprawling backwards, a flailing hand knocking a number of his packages onto the floor as he hit the side of Stockton’s bar.

Mulligan bounced off the hard wooden surface, aiming a punch at Nate’s gut, which Nate easily slapped away and countered with another strike to his face. Blood from his abruptly torn-open lip sprayed onto the ground as he staggered, his eyes glazing over and going glassy as they lost their focus. He swayed on his feet for a few moments before Nate saw fit to plant a knee into his gut and drive both elbows into his spine, sending him crashing definitively to the ground.

Piper saw her window of opportunity open while Nate was busy dismantling the other man, and as he hit the final salvo of blows which felled his adversary for good, she scooped up one of the scattered packages and stuffed it into her pack while everyone around her was distracted by the outcome of the fight. When she had stowed the package safely she stood at Nate’s side again as he towered over his fallen foe. “Shoulda just told us where the party was, man,” Nate said, still attempting an inebriated tone even after his exertion. Piper had to hand it to him – he was certainly better at role-play than she had previously been inclined to believe. After he had kicked Mulligan one last time, he turned to her and said “Come on, honey, let’s go.” Then – to Piper’s surprise and shock – he planted a kiss directly onto her lips before he took her by the hand and led her out of Bunker Hill as quickly as possible, hurrying her along so as to not give Mulligan the chance to realise he had been robbed.

When they were a safe distance away from the trading post, Nate let go of her hand and said “I think that went well, don’t you? Did you get what we needed?”

“Yeah,” Piper said, before she slapped him across the face as hard as she could. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again.”

“Do what?” Nate asked, rubbing his cheek in surprise.

“You know what!” Piper retorted angrily. “You kissed me!”

“Weren’t we still in character?” Nate said quizzically. “I thought –”

“I don’t care what you thought!” Piper snapped, before she ran her hands down her face in exasperation. “God, I should have known better than to bring you along. I can do without being felt up by people I hardly know.”

Nate looked contrite then. “I’m sorry, Piper – I should have asked you if it was okay first.”

“You’re damn right you should have!” Piper exclaimed. “Look, Nate… I appreciate your dedication to getting into character, but some lines you just don’t cross, you know?” She sighed. “We should get going. Bobbi won’t wait forever…”


End file.
